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"So they told you nothing about my real identity?"
He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his face. "This is all so fucked up."
He had that right. "Tell me what you know, and maybe together we can unfuck it."
He snorted. "You and what friggin' army? There's more than one damn person behind all this, I know that much."
"Oh," I said, my voice soft and flat, containing very little in the way of anger and yet all the more deadly because of it, "I don't need an army. I can do plenty of damage on my own. Trust me on that."
His gaze was a weight I could feel, but I didn't bother meeting it. He said, in a voice that was soft yet filled with sudden wariness, "Just who the hell are you?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out." I glanced at him briefly. "Whoever did this to me is going to pay, Evin. And while I don't think you're involved more than peripherally, you had better believe that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get whatever information you have. So talk, or I'll make you."
He believed me. The brief flash of fear across his features was evidence enough of that. "Lyndal - my soul mate - was snatched in Melbourne about a fortnight ago. I was told to go to a warehouse in Richmond and wait for instructions - "
"Melbourne?" I interrupted, once again feeling that sweep of familiarity. I worked there. In Spencer Street, at -
somewhere. I bit back a growl of frustration and added, "That's in Victoria, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Lyndal and I were holidaying down there. I went to the warehouse and waited as directed." He stopped, and frowned. "You know, I did lose time in that building. Is it possible for someone to tamper with your memories without them even going near you?"
"A trained telepath could stand in front of you and make you blind to their presence," I said. "How much time did you lose?"
"Just a few minutes. I just remember looking at my watch and thinking it was odd."
I nodded. "What happened after that?"
"I went back to our hotel and found a folder waiting in our room. It told me about you - the Hanna London you - and said that I was to be your guard. And if I went to the cops - or spoke to anyone at all about it - then Lyndal was dead meat."
"So they didn't actually give you the instruction about being my brother?"
"No," he said. "Because that bit is true."
I shook my head but didn't argue. He continued to stare at me, then raked his hands through his hair and said angrily, "Fuck. They could have made me do anything. I'd never have known."
"They could have, but they didn't. I think they wanted me to be suspicious. Whoever modified my memory has left just enough to make me doubt my reality."
He frowned at me. "But why would they want to do that?"
"To frustrate me, probably. I can remember someone telling me to enjoy what was left of my life - and they obviously meant that I wouldn't."
"What was left of your life? What the fuck does that mean?"
"What do you think it means?" We finally hit the bitumen and the truck's tail whipped out sideways as I spun the wheel and flattened my foot. The roar of the big engine filled the night - a deep throbbing sound that oddly felt in tune with the anger within me. "Did you really think that they'd play this game for a couple of weeks then let us all go?"
"Honestly? Yeah, I did." He scrubbed a hand across his chin. "I don't know why, but I did."
That belief had to have been implanted, too. Evin might be a trusting soul, but even he couldn't be that innocent. Not if he came from the same pack that I did.
"I gather they've been allowing you to talk to Lyndal when you report in every night?"
"Yeah." Fury and desperation swirled through his voice, sharp in the darkness. "They've been given her a rough time."
Which could have meant anything from verbal to physical abuse, but I didn't ask him to clarify because, really, there was no point. There wasn't anything we could do to prevent it right now.
"She's still alive, Evin. Hold on to that."
"But she's pregnant."
